On Being a Freak
by SoulSearcher768
Summary: Sam is struggling with being able to see the future and the fact that is makes more of a freak. Dean... helps?


Sam looked at his feet then back at Dean, his heart racing with anxiety as his brother eyed him with an unreadable expression on his face. He'd been staring at him with that look on his face for several minutes now, and it was starting to worry Sam more than a little.

Taking hold of his anxiety, he sat straighter in the chair and met his brother's unwavering gaze. "Are you going to answer my question or should I get a book to read while you think it through?"

The expression fell from Dean's face and with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, he glared at Sam. It was as though the last five minutes hadn't happened. "Shut it, Sammy." He growled, though the tone behind it told Sam that he wasn't even remotely upset. "Do I think you're a freak? Yeah, Sam I do. I always have. But," he met Sam's gaze and sighed. "But only I get to call you that."

"That's very reassuring, Dean, thank you. I am so glad we had this talk." Sam sighed and turned to his laptop, then hesitated. His love of learning and, lately, his laptop, was one of the biggest reasons Dean had always called him a freak. Did he really want to fuel that fire right now?

"C'mon, Sammy, you know what I meant." Dean sunk onto the end of his bed and stared at Sam until he met his gaze. "You're a freak, but you're my freak."

"Again, so much help." Sam grumbled. He should have known better than to confide in Dean.

"Don't make this a chick flick moment, dude. You know what I mean, and if you don't then you should." Sam chuckled a little bit and nodded.

"Yeah, I know. It still doesn't make me feel any better." He winced as he thought about the way that guy had looked him earlier as he called him a freak of nature. Was it his fault he'd so recently discovered his innate ability to see events before they happened? He was pretty sure it wasn't. Though, he supposed, it was his fault that he was stupid enough to say something about it to a stranger. He could tell himself it was a slip of the tongue all he wanted, but was it really? He really wanted to know how other people would react to such knowledge.

"Sam." Dean's tone of voice told him that he'd been trying to get Sam's attention for a while. He frowned and looked at his older brother.

"Sorry," he shrugged. "Thinking."

"Yeah well..." Dean scowled slightly. "Listen, Sammy, I know you're struggling with... everything right now but-" he scowled and Sam realized he was trying to be sentimental. It happened, on occasion. It was best not to point that out, either. "You'll get through it. You've got me; I'm not going anywhere. You know I've always got your back, even if I don't actually understand the reasons you do something."

"Can I point out that you usually tell me I'm an idiot, ignore me for anywhere from several hours to several months, and then decide to support me after all that?"

"You could, but then I'd have to punch you."

"Right," Sam nodded. "Forget I mentioned that."

Dean smirked slightly and nodded. "I'll always be there for you, Sam. And this isn't any different. I can't pretend I know what you are going through, not even close. But I can help you as best I can."

Sam nodded. Inside, his anxiety had fled. He felt stronger, just with the admission of care from his brother. He still felt like a freak, and had a feeling that nothing was going to change that. But knowing that Dean would be there for him made it easier. Knowing that under all the teasing and name-calling, his big brother cared and understood what he was going through as best he could... that was more than he could ever ask for. He wanted to hug Dean, to spill the flood of fear and self-loathing he had inside of him into his brother's listening ears, but that would never happen.

"Thanks, Dean." He said, smiling slightly. He heard the catch in his voice, and obviously Dean had too. His brother smirked.

"Yeah, whatever. You friggin' girl." He stood and walked to the door. "I'm getting some chow. Coming?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "I am."

That night, after they had finished the case they were working on, Sam was sitting in front of his laptop. He was only browsing the internet, but it was somehow relaxing. Dean was on his bed, sharpening their blades. The silence was nice, relaxing. It was... almost perfect.

"Hey, Freak." Sam looked up and looked at a grinning Dean. "See anymore alcohol in my future?" He lifted his empty glass off from the bedside table and waggled his eyebrows.

"Maybe if you get up off your lazy ass and get it yourself," Sam replied laughing. Dean frowned, but stood and went to get his own drink.

"Want?" Dean waved a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in the air.

"No," Sam shook his head then scowled. "Actually, yeah." He added just before Dean dumped the alcohol down his throat. Dean sighed and grabbed a styrofoam cup, dumping the whiskey into it. Sam quirked a brow.

"Deal with it." Dean said, trying (and failing) to hide his smirk.

Sam took a swig of the amber liquid and swished it around in his mouth a bit before he swallowed. He sighed as a tingling warmth spread through his chest. He took a second swig, then looked over at Dean. He sighed. "Dean," his brother looked at him. "Thank you."

"Dude, it's just booze."

"No," Sam smiled. "For earlier."

"I know what you meant. I was trying to avoid another sentimental moment. Keep it up, Sammy," he waggled his finger at him. "I'll start telling people I have a little sister."

"Yeah," Sam shook his head and laughed. "Like you haven't done that before."


End file.
